


Army Brats

by ChloeWinchester



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Captain John Watson, Child Abuse, Daddy Kink, M/M, Sherlock AU, Shota, johniarty, shota jim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 03:38:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2798141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChloeWinchester/pseuds/ChloeWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An act of chance brings Captain John Watson and little James Moriarty together, a soon to be discharged soldier and an abused little boy left with nothing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Johniarty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Johniarty/gifts).



He wasn’t sure what happened.

One minute, a belt was lashing across his sparrow-like shoulders and the next the world was falling in around him.

The crunching of drywall and stone crumbling and the horrific snaps of wood made him scream. He didn’t have time to think, to dive under something, the quake of the earth was what sent him to the ground.

Pain in his head from striking the ground, a little baby voice in the midst of fire and rubble crying out to no one.

Little James Moriarty had no one to sob to, no one to ask for. The babe had even stopped crying for God some time ago. Just a child and his faith in anything had been taken away.

So here, under the smoke and ash of the fallen house, the bathtub all that kept him from being crushed, he cried. And then he stood in the dark T-shirt much too big for him and toddled over the rubble, the debris, the body of the woman who ran the group home he’d been placed in, and called for the only peace he knew.

“William!” He whimpered, but in his broken lilt it was more of a ‘Willum’. “William, where are you?” Only half the house had fallen in from whatever made it fall down, and James was able to find the closet he’d been condemned to. “William!” He rushed the little stuffed rabbit and hugged it so tight, tears and dirt smearing the cream colored fur of the toy.

He couldn’t stay in here. There was fire in here and lots of yelling outside but no one seemed to notice the little boy making his way down the block with bare feet on the asphalt. Too many fires to put out, too many homes devastated to see someone so small.

James didn’t look at the neighbors limping to ambulances, police officers bolting past, firemen and soldiers all about shouting about things he didn’t understand. He didn’t know where he was going, or that he was cold, or that William’s leg was singed and was slowly burning the child’s arm as it smouldered. All James knew was he was moving and his ears were ringing.

When he was almost to the intersection of the suburban neighborhood, someone noticed him.

Captain John H. Watson was talking very quickly with EMTs, stating they had to be sure there was no threat and the house that started all this -a meth lab in the basement had exploded but they’d been called just in case- was safe before anyone got too close to the initial blast when his eyes rested on the waif of a child.

The babe stumbled down the road on bleeding feet, blood coming from one of his ears. He was covered in dirt and soot, wearing nothing but an old T-shirt that hung around his knees carrying a stuffed bunny that appeared to be just as battered as the child.

He stopped mid sentence and hurried toward him, approaching more cautiously when he was just yards away. He dropped to his knee, trying to meet the boy’s eyes as he approached.

“Hey,” he said gently. “Hey, little one, are you alright? Are you okay?” The boy didn’t register him at all. “Hey, hey, where’s your mummy? Can you hear me?”

Finally the child was close enough that he could put a gentle hand on his shoulder to steady him. It was then the boy focused and looked at him.

“Are you an army man?” The boy whispered, tears in his eyes as he looked at John’s gun.

“I am,” John agreed, taking it off his hip and sliding it back toward the other men behind him. “But I’m also a doctor. See?” He pointed to the medical corps badge on his uniform. “And you are bleeding.”

James looked at him, his lips shaking, and started to wail.

“Shh, shh…” He soothed, opening his arms for the child who quickly sought refuge there, holding him tenderly. “There, now, there. What’s your name?” He asked, standing with him.

“J-James,” he rasped. John nodded.

“James. That’s a lovely name. I’m John.” The child repeated the name, muttering. “James, where’s your mum?” He said gently. “Was she in a house with you?”

“Mummy’s dead. Mummy shot Daddy, Mummy shot Mummy,” he breathed, letting his head loll against John’s shoulder as he carried him toward the waiting ambulance.

John’s stomach rolled. “Oh. I see. Is...is there someone, someone else you were staying with?”

“House fell on them,” he muttered.

“Right.” God, he felt like an arse.

He set the boy down, wrapping a shock blanket around him while he checked his ears, his throat and his eyes for damage, but it all seemed pretty superficial. But the welts on his back, the bruises set deep in his thighs… This little boy had been tortured, beaten and battered and if he went to another home like this last one who knew how much worse it could get.

“Here, let me see your friend here-”

“NO!” James clung tight to the rabbit, crying into its face. “No, no, I won’t let you hurt William!”

“No, no, no, I’m not going to hurt him. Hey now, James, I  haven’t hurt you, have I?” He goaded gently. James shook his head. “Then why would I hurt William?”

“Don’t take him away,” he whimpered. “What if you take him and he leaves? What if his leg’s too bad and he dies? I don’t want him to die like everyone else. Please don’t take William and let him die,” he sobbed.

“Shh, shh… you know what I’m going to do?” He said gently. “I’m going to put a bandage on William’s leg, to keep it from getting infected. Then it could really hurt him.” He took the handkerchief from his pocket and showed it to James. “See? I’ll make it all better. Like a good doctor,” he promised. “And you can watch the whole time, he’ll never leave your sight.”

Reluctantly, James kissed the bunny’s ear and let John hold him. He watched intently, tensed as John tended to his friend with gentle hands.  He offered him back, spying the burn on his arm. “Good as new.”

He took James’ arm and pressed salve over it to soothe it and wrapped it as well. “There, see? You match.”

John smiled at him, but the boy didn’t seem able to return it. And John didn’t blame him. God only knew what he’d seen or endured, what he’d been put through. He could only imagine.

He was familiar with the look in James’ eyes.

The soft, quiet echo of pain and plea for mercy that was never given, the hollow and grown up look in eyes meant to sparkle with happiness. Abuse. Beatings, screaming, tortures and abuse had done this to the boy. He couldn’t get him justice for what had been done, but he might be able to do something more.

He talked to James as he worked. The quiet, wide-eyed and no doubt sleepy little boy didn’t say much. He swayed and blinked sleepily and nestled in John’s coat when he wrapped it around his shoulders.

John held him in his arms as he slept, hours passing until the sun finally rose and the last ambulance left with the last patients that needed to board it.

James was nestled against John’s chest, sleeping heavily with William’s ear in his mouth. The dirt had been cleared from his pale skin, the blood gone too and in the light...The boy was radiant. Absolutely radiant.

There was absolutely no way he was giving him to the vulture of a social worker looming around the edges of crowds and parents.

“Captain, you have to give him over,” Major Sholto whispered, feet from the child. “You can’t just keep him. He’s a boy, not a dog.”

“I know that, I understand. But I can’t...I can’t just leave him with some stranger. Not tonight, look how scared he is. I can’t...abandon him because it’s inconvenient.”

“I think that’s a bit of a stretch. Inconvenient is not how I would describe a child being in these ranks,” he said gently. John looked at him, eyes hard.

“You and I both know my discharge is coming any day now.” The nightmares were too loud, the screams, the shrieks, the violent threats against people he wasn’t awake enough to recognize, the crying… He wasn’t going to stay in the army anymore.

The wound in his shoulder, though mostly healed, throbbed as a reminder.

“Until there’s a suitable home found he’s staying with me in my tiny flat.”

“What do you know about caring for children?” He demanded. John shook his head.

“Nothing. But I know how to take care of an abused one,” he stated. Sholto softened.

“John-”

“No.”

John turned from him, from the social worker too, and started toward the street.

“James,” he said softly, rousing him just a little. “James, I think you’re going to stay with me for awhile. Is that alright?”

James looked at him, eyes no longer obsidian but a soft caramel. “That’s alright,” he promised, kissing John’s cheek before settling again. “That’s alright.”

This was happening so fast John couldn’t see straight. Hours ago he was tending to a potential bomb threat that could wipe out communities. Now, just after dawn, he was riding back to his flat to take care of a child he found in the road.

His cheek was still warm where James’ lips had touched it.

That was enough.  

~*~

James’ face was still red, tears on his face from the fit he’d thrown.

John expected as much. The boy had gone all day without speaking. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t change his clothes, he wouldn’t let John near him really, but the fit hadn’t started until John tried to wash William.

The rabbit was covered in dirt and grime and the soot inside his fur would make James sick, but James…

He’d screamed so loud and thrashed and yelled curses at him for trying to take him from him. The fit carried from the living room to the laundry room, James sobbing so hard his whole head was red, not helping his injuries beating his fists on the ground.

“James, James!” John wrapped both arms around the babe’s middle and held him still. “James, hey! Look! Look, you can watch him the whole time! Look!” He pointed at the window of the washer that was slowly filling with water. James’ writhing stopped, his frustrated cries hiccups.

“See? It’s alright. It’s alright, he’s right where you can see him.”

Now they were sitting on an upturned laundry basket, John still holding James’ middle and arms to keep him still. James was panting and staring at the washer where his friend was.

“What, all that noise and now you don’t want to talk to me?” John urged softly. James looked at him, glaring. “Oh, you’re mad at me?” James looked back at the washer. “You know I only fought you on this to keep you safe, don’t you?”

“No,” James said flatly. John’s brow quirked.

“No?”

“No.”

John thought a moment. “Do you think I did it to upset you?” The child nodded once. John swallowed. “Is that what other grown ups did? Took things from you just to make you cry?” James drooped a little and nodded again. “And...you think I’m going to be like them, don’t you?”

“Everyone’s like that,” he whispered. “Everyone.”

John softened, loosening his hold on the child, cradling instead of seizing. “I want to prove that’s not true,” he breathed. “I won’t ever hurt you, alright?”

James scoffed and shook his head. “Okay.”

John smiled a little, very gently pushing the child’s black hair back. “I promise.” He offered the boy his pinky finger.

James frowned at it and looked up at John, hooking their fingers together with a stony expression. “Don’t break it. Please.”

“I’d rather die than break a promise to you,” he assured.

Seemingly satisfied, James sat back so he was pressed against John, watching the washer give William a bath. He even helped put him in the dryer.

While William dried the boy agreed to take a bath and got dressed in the clothes that John had gotten for him yesterday and threw away the T-shirt he’d found him in.

In his little duck pjs he toddled into the laundry room and took a warm and clean William from the dryer. John wrapped a fresh bandage on his injury and made James some dinner  that he nearly ate all of.

Everything seemed alright. James was tucked into the bed, John asleep on the sofa.

James roused late into the night, hearing someone crying. He rubbed his eyes and peered at the sofa where John was laying, listening. John whimpered, scared, and rolled over, crying still in his sleep.

James pushed himself off the bed and toddled over to the sofa, staring at John a moment.

The doctor’s face was wet and contorted in remembered pain, his body shaking a little.

“John?” He whispered, reaching out to touch his shoulder. “John, wake up, it’s okay-” The second he touched him John jolted awake and shouted in surprise and fear.

James screamed and fell flat on his bottom, where he started to cry. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” He covered his head, waiting for hands that hurt and broke to touch him.

The ones that met him, however, were warm and gentle and carefully picked him up from the floor. He was pressed against a still warm chest a little damp with sweat, the back of his head held and soft words cooed to him. He blinked up at John with his big eyes in the dim light of the flat.

“I’m so sorry, James, I didn’t mean to frighten you. I didn’t, I’m...I’m so sorry, I-”

James pressed fingers against his mouth to stop him from speaking.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, blinking sadly. “I get nightmares too.”

John relaxed, hugging James tighter. “I’ll stay with you,” the boy continued. “Maybe we won’t be so scared together.”

The soldier’s eyes burned at the sweetness in the irish child’s voice. He kissed his head, standing and getting into bed with him.

James snuggled up against him, one hand holding his dog tags, the other hugging William.

John looked down at him, rubbing his back in little circles. “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, John.”

John drifted off with the child in his arms and his lips against his forehead, the nightmares gone for the rest of the night.


	2. Growing Pains

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James settles into domestic life a little more, but adjusting is difficult for anyone, let alone a six year old boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so shota is happening in this chapter. Nothing heavy but it's gonna be a thing so if you're not into that I totally understand and thank you for your time.

John woke to James straddling his chest.

He had his dog tags in his hands, the chain still around his neck and was turning them over, biting them a little, leaving tiny teeth marks around the thinner edges.

John laughed softly. “What are you doing, little one?” he asked. James squeaked, surprised, and nearly fell off of him. John steadied him, wincing. “Sorry.”

“I was looking,” James admitted, carefully setting them down where he’d found them. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to  hurt them.” He winced a little. John carefully ran his hand over the child’s cheek.

“Shh, it’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.” He sat up and James slid into his lap, making it that much easier for him to breathe. He smiled at him. “Breakfast?”

James was six years old - he found out when the post came later that day with all of his medical information as well as the homes he’d been to, where he was born, his birth certificate, and things of that nature.

James could read, color in the lines, made things the appropriate color, could add and subtract far ahead of his age group, but emotionally he was far behind. His growth had been stunted from malnutrition, and was quite obviously abused from the day he was born. Which explained so much.

Why James sucked his thumb, and clung so tight to William and why he had to sleep with John in order to sleep properly.

What upset John the most was how all of these signs pointed to sexual abuse. “Poor thing,” he whispered, shutting the folder and setting it aside.

“You read about me?” James muttered from where John thought he was playing in the other room. He swallowed, looking over at him.

“I did,” he nodded. He didn’t want to lie to him, he never wanted to do that. James shifted a little.

“You’re going to give me away now, aren’t you?” He whispered. John frowned.

“Why would I give you away?” He asked.

“Cause now you know how bad I am. How, how dirty,” he dropped his voice to such a soft whisper John had to lean in to hear him. He got up and walked over to him, kneeling down to meet his eyes.

“Jim, sweetheart, I’m not giving you away. And you’re definitely not dirty. What happened to you isn’t your fault, okay? It’s not your fault,” he swore.

James looked at him, cheeks pink, eyes filled with tears. “But she said it was, she said I made him do it, she said-” His little voice choked off and he crumpled against him with quiet cries.

“Shh,” John whispered, rocking him carefully. “Shh… she lied. She lied and said terrible, untrue things to you, James. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

He held the back of the child’s head while he nuzzled John’s neck, soft face pressed against the scoop of warm skin.

“You’re nice,” James whispered. “No one else is nice.”

John shut his eyes, swallowing hard and kissed his head. “I will be. I’ll be nice to you, James. I promise I will. I’ll never hurt you, I’ll never, ever hurt you.”

James kissed his neck in thanks, and John loathed that he shivered. God, this poor child had been so abused and he was feeling such things. How revolting could he be?

~*~

Two more weeks passed.

James grew more open, smiled more, cried less. He had a tiny bin filled with new toys John had gotten for him, just a few little things.

Going shopping with James had been a trial in itself, and he was admittedly very afraid to do it.

James was nervous, which was expected, looking up at the toy shop with wide eyes, clinging to John’s side as tight as his little fingers could hold onto him.

“It’s alright,” John assured. “It’s alright, James. We’re just going to get you a few toys and things.”

“Toys?” James whispered, still not moving.

John smiled a little. “A few, yeah. And some more clothes, a few things for the bath, some videos.” Things every child had that James more than deserved.

“Brand new? For me?” James asked again, his tone frightful as if John would take this all away if he spoke out of turn.

“Of course, Jim,” John smiled, patting his cheek. “Brand new, all yours.”

James’ frightened grip turned into a desperate hug and he clung to him. “Thank you.”

Finally, the boy was alright to move.

They walked inside and James wasn’t sure where to look first.

There was a massive tower of balls as tall as he was in all colors, huge displays of big yellow trucks and tall towers of dolls.

James’ breath left him as he stared.

“C’mon, dear,” he smiled, taking his hand and leading him into the toys. He let James lead, not pointing him in any direction.

The first thing he picked out was a small soldier figurine that fit in his palms. “He’s like you,” James smiled, looking up at him with a grin. John peered at the toy with blond hair and a medic strap on his arm with a pang.

His honorable discharge letter had finally come this morning.

He wasn’t a soldier anymore, hell he wasn’t much of a doctor either, but he wasn’t about to take the stars out of Jim’s eyes. “That’s right, he is,” he nodded.

Jim picked out a king for him to defend -he liked kings very much and wanted to be one one day, and with those dimples John imagined that wouldn’t be very hard for him to do- and toddled off.

He walked down an aisle of dolls and John went right with him, smiling as he touched the hair and faces of the ones he could reach.

He took down one from an open bin with dark eyes and painted on black hair, looking at it intensely.

Then, quite suddenly, James threw the doll to the ground with a tearing sound and ran off in the other direction.

“James!” John bolted after him, running past bikes and the sports equipment where James was taking off into. Finally, in the basketballs, he caught his arm.

“James, what was that about? That wasn’t nice at all, why did you throw that like that?” He demanded.

“Because I’m not a faggot!” He grunted, trying to jerk his arm away, tears in his eyes. John balked.

“Don’t you talk like that, we don’t say words like that! That’s not nice at all and-” He stopped, looking at the distressed boy, forcing himself to breathe. He held his shoulders instead and knelt. “James, why would you think a doll would make you… would make you that word?” He asked gently.

James lips quivered, tears on his face. “I don’t like girls,” he muttered. “Not like other boys like girls, I don’t. I… like boys.” His voice ended in a whimper and he covered his face in shame.

“James,” John whispered, lifting his chin. “I… I like boys too.” Jim’s eyes grew.

“You do?” John nodded.

“I do. Very much.”

James blinked, then sniffed. “I still can’t play with dolls!”

“James-”

“If I play with dolls other boys will call me names and grown ups will hit me-”

“No one is going to lay a hand on you, I’ll kill anyone who tries,” he said firmly. “James, playing with a toy doesn’t make you anything. It makes you a child who wants to play.”

“You, you don’t care if I like boys?” He asked. John bent and lifted James into his arms, leaning him on his good side.

“I don’t care if you fancy penguins, Jim, just as long as they’re nice ones. No south pole penguins, though, I cannot abide that.” James giggled. John tickled his stomach to make him laugh some more.

With only one more fit about his utter distaste of both frogs and whales James toddled his way out of the store with a small bag of toys -including the doll-, a set of black pajamas with little skulls all over and a shark towel, no frogs or whales.

He ate dinner just fine and took his bath with his new towel and new toy boat  and got into his pajamas and curled up for sleep against John’s chest.

“Goodnight, Daddy.”

John froze, looking down at him, but the child was already sleeping peacefully.

Daddy.

He called him Daddy.

~*~

James loved John. He’d never cared for someone so much before but he just knew that John was special and he cared for him so much.

And within that care, he didn’t want to lose him. God, he was so terrified of losing the one good thing in his life, the only good thing to ever be in his life.

He looked up at him in the gray dawn, watching him sleep.

His Daddy was so handsome, with his yellow hair and bright eyes and soft skin, and he did so many nice things for him, maybe... maybe he could do something nice too.

James knew what grown up men like Daddy liked, what they wanted and what made them feel good, and he was more than willing to show him how good he could make him feel, he’d had practice.

His cheeks heating a little, James understood what he had to do to keep his Daddy happy and with him, to keep him from going away or taking all of his care and kindness back.

Slowly, the child sat up and scooched the covers back off of the pair of them. He looked down at John’s hips, staring between his legs while he worked his trousers down to his thighs. He shifted a little, his own pants getting tighter.

He leaned down, kissing along John’s hips with delicate little lips. John hummed and James smiled. He was doing good.

The heat coming from John’s pants grew, his cock, which was bigger than any Jim had ever seen and that was through his underwear, twitched and started to harden. Small but deft hands gently rubbed him through the fabric.

John rolled on his back entirely and grunted a little, hips jerking just barely.

James smiled and continued, slowly and very carefully working John’s pants down so he could-

“James, what the hell are you doing?!” John suddenly said very loudly.

The boy gasped in surprise and toppled off the bed, covering his head and trying not to cry. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I wasn’t supposed to wake you! I’m sorry, I-I was trying to-to make you feel… The others liked it so much I thought you would too, I’m sorry!”

John stared at him, eyes wide in a quiet disbelief.

“I… James, sweetheart,” John swallowed past the initial shock, shutting his eyes briefly to try and gather himself. He pulled his trousers back on and knelt in front of him. “James, why did you do that?”

James sobbed into his hands, feeling so stupid and ugly and filthy for what he’d done. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, I’m dirty. I’m dirty and disgusting, I told you! I thought- I don’t want you to leave! If I made you feel good you wouldn’t leave! But now you’ll give me back, you’re gonna give me away!”  He sobbed harder, not looking at him, ears burning red with shame.

“Shh, shh, hey, hey… Shh…” He took him into his arms, still awkwardly dealing with the onset of arousal with the child in his arms. “ You’re not disgusting. You’re not dirty and I’m not taking you anywhere. You’re staying right here with me. You don’t have to do that, sweetie. You don’t have to do that, not for me.”

“You don’t like it,” James cried, face in John’s chest. “You don’t like it, I’m so sorry.”

“Shh, James it’s not-” He took another breath. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, baby. I did.” He leaned back and tipped his chin up. “But you, you shouldn’t have to do that just, just to try and keep me with you, I won’t leave you, James. I’m not going anywhere.”

He hugged him, feeling like this was becoming a pattern. “You don’t have to do those things. Not for me.”

“But I-I love you,” James whimpered. John winced, putting a hand on the back of his head.

“I love you too,” he breathed. “You don’t have to show me you love me that way. You don’t have to give me your body to love me, James.”

James looked at him with glassy eyes. “What if, I… wanted to give you my mouth?” He offered. “For kisses?”

John let out a breathy laugh, cupping his little face. “I… Sure. Sure, we’ll start there, mm?”

James lunged for his lips and kissed him eagerly without further invitation. John gasped in surprise and held him, arms wrapped tight around his little body that he could hold in both arms with such ease.

The little boy kissed him feverishly and wantonly, clinging to his shoulders and finding some peace in John’s lips.

“There,” John breathed. “There we are. Shh…” He soothed, kissing his forehead and his hair. “Start with kisses.”

James tangled his fingers in John’s dogtags, leaning his head against his chest. “Start with kisses.”

 


End file.
